A New Book

I just started to read Tom Perotta's "Little Children".  This book was briefly discussed at the ARM conference (once again by Andi Buchanan of Mothershock- I swear I'm not a stalker, she's just a really talented lady whose book struck a chord when I was very hormonally charged) because although it tells the story of the inner life of parents of small children, it is considered to be a serious work of fiction whereas most books about the experience of parenting are dismissed as chick-lit or momoirs - suitable for bathtubs and beaches.  Now Tom Perotta is an established (he wrote Election - as in the Reese Witherspoon movie) and talented author but - now I'm only a few chapters in - I do not see that he is more gifted or literary than a fiction writer such as India Knight or Marian Keyes who in their books discuss anger, depression, gender inequality, social injustice and alcohol abuse but also (sound death knell) discuss handbags and shoes. 

I admit that I am reading Little Children with a critical view - looking for cracks in the veneer.  Truthfully, it has been a long time since I have read anything written by a male author.  I think it is because when a man writes about feelings (a la Nick Hornby (nothing against Mr.Hornby - I adored About A Boy) or Jonathan Franzen) reviewers praise their insightful social commentary, whereas when a woman writes about feelings, it is seen as something deserving of a pink book jacket with an impressionist drawing of shoes and coffee mugs.  And that bugs me.  That, and an overexposure to Conrad and Hemingway in my undergrad English program.

At this point, I am skeptical.  Mr. Perotta's choice of characters, especially the once bisexual feminist is very ambitious.  Some of the peripheral characters seem a little bit cliched (I'm thinking Mary Ann, the ringleader of the bitchy judgmental moms at the local park) and I am hoping they become more fleshed out as the novel progresses.  If not, the book will be simply another bit of campy drama, not unlike Desperate Housewives (also created by a man - as if that were not made painfully obvious by the Nicollette Sheridan washing the car in cut-off scene), and deserving of a glossy pink cover for the paperback version.